In bouncy rhyme, the young narrator of this winsome picture book[4] explains why she doesn’t eschew a wardrobe with a history: “I don’t say, ‘What, those?’/ and turn up my nose/ The way some people do/ When their clothes aren’t new.”

She likes clothes “with a history, clothes with a mystery,” and asks her togs, “Clothes, I wonder who wore you before you were mine?/ Was she light-haired or dark-haired, seven or nine?/ Did you make her look awful or make her look fine?”

And when she’s done with her clothes, like any true thrifter, she passes them on, wondering “whose clothes they’ll be/ When they’ve finished with me.”

Mary Ann Hoberman’s engaging narrative and Patrice Barton’s charming illustrations are just the antidote to the avalanche known in the trade as the fall fashion industry “books[5],” the overloaded women’s magazines crammed with advertisements for the sort of rarefied clothes designed for people with a Cayman Islands bank account.